She was wearing an old-fashioned blue cotton dress with a zipper down the front that reminded me of the everyday dresses my mother used to wear, housedresses she called them, that were good enough for working inside the house but not for going to the grocery store or for entertaining even unexpected guests. Machiko seemed to share my mother's housedress philosophy. She self-consciously brushed crumbs from her lap and checked the zipper as she walked toward us.
She was older than I had thought at first, older and frailer. Coming closer, she leaned heavily on her daughter's arm with one hand and on a twisted wooden cane with the other. When she reached the wooden archway, she stopped and looked questioningly at each of us in turn, her eyes enormous behind the beveled lenses of her gold-framed glasses. When her glance reached George Yamamoto, it stopped, freezing into a hard glitter.
Machiko Kurobashi's transformation was sudden and complete. She seemed to grow younger, stiffer, and inches taller all at the same time. Letting go of her daughter's arm, she raised one trembling hand and pointed an accusing finger at the head of the Washington State Patrol Crime Lab.
'You, she hissed. 'Out!
A dark flush swept out from under George Yamamoto's collar and up his neck, leaving his ears a vivid shade of crimson. 'I'm so sorry, Machiko… he began.
She shook her head stubbornly, cutting him off. 'Out, she repeated, glaring at him. 'Go!
He started to object and then thought better of it. He went, retreating dispiritedly past the trailer and Suburban until he disappeared around the corner of the house while Machiko Kurobashi stared after him as if concerned that he might change his mind and come back.
Surprised, I looked down at the bird-boned old woman who had ordered George Yamamoto away, who had managed to treat a more than sixty-year-old bureaucrat the same way a hard-nosed teacher might treat a misbehaving kindergartener. Obviously, the rancor between George Yamamoto and Machiko Kurobashi was deep- rooted and inarguably mutual.
Once George was out of sight, Machiko turned toward me. 'I sorry to be rude. That man not welcome here. Her English was broken and heavily accented, but quite understandable. Once again I fumbled my identification out of my pocket and handed it to her. She didn't bother to look at it.
'You are police?
I nodded. 'I'm Detective Beaumont, and that's my partner, Detective Lindstrom. We came to tell you about your husband.
'Kimi told me, she said. 'Come.
Instead of going toward the house, she turned and headed back into the garden. The rest of us followed. She resumed her place on the bench, patting it to indicate that I should sit beside her. Big Al and Kimi sat on another bench a few feet away.
'Sorry, she said. 'Furniture all gone. Nowhere to sit inside.
'That's fine, I said. 'This is very beautiful.
'Tadeo make it for me. Like home, so I not be homesick. The aching hurt in her simple words put a lump in my throat. My heart went out to this fragile old woman who seemed to be losing everything at once-husband, home, security. Somehow she didn't seem defeated.
'Homesick for Japan? I asked, wanting to be clear about what she was saying.
She nodded.
'Didn't you ever go back?
She shook her head.
'Not even for a visit?
'No.
From the look of the surroundings, the kind of home they lived in, the kind of business her husband had run, they surely could have afforded the price of an airplane ticket.
'My home in Nagasaki, she said simply.
Nagasaki. Hiroshima's sister in devastation, the one you seldom heard about. For the second time that day the specter of World War II rose up before me, its horror and destruction made personal in a way it had never touched me before. Looking at Machiko Kurobashi, I wondered what tricks of fate had placed her home and family in the path of exploding atomic bombs.
'There's nothing left? I asked.
She shook her head. 'No one. Nothing. Only this, that Tadeo made for me. Now it gone too.
Tears sprang once more to her eyes. For several long seconds no one spoke. The brilliantly colored fish alternately lazed in and darted through the shallow water.
'Tell me about my husband, she said.
And so, as gently as I could, I told her everything, including how George Yamamoto had been called in to help determine whether or not Tadeo's death had involved the ancient practice of hara-kiri or seppuku. I noted what seemed to be a sharp intake of breath when I mentioned the sword, but she said nothing and I continued. Finished finally, I waited to hear what she would say.
'No.
She spoke the word so softly that I almost missed it. 'No what? I asked.
When her eyes met mine, they were blazing with a new intensity, a desperate defiance. 'My Tadeo not kill himself. This I know.
And that was all she said, her only response. They may have disagreed on everything else, but on that score, George Yamamoto and Machiko Kurobashi were in full and total agreement. Neither one of them believed for one moment that Tadeo Kurobashi had committed suicide.
Their insistent belief led me to agree with them.
CHAPTER 4
The deep-throated honk of a semi's horn sounded three short bursts out in front of the house. Kimi glanced at her watch then jumped up and started out of the garden. 'The movers, she explained. 'I'll go tell them what's happened, that they'll have to come back later.
'No, Machiko said. She didn't say much, but what she did say was definitive.
Frowning, Kimi stopped and turned to her mother. 'What do you mean, no?
'Your father say today. He give his word. We go today.
'But-
Machiko held out her hand, a gesture which both stifled protest and asked for help. Kimi pulled Machiko to her feet. 'You stay, the older woman ordered. 'I go.
It was more a command than a request, and Kimiko unwillingly assented to it. She stood watching with furrowed brows as her mother, leaning on the gnarled cane, hobbled slowly across the bridge and out of sight around the house while the truck's horn honked impatiently once more.
This time when Kimiko turned back to us, tears were streaming down her face. She made no effort to wipe them away. 'How could he do this to her?
'Do what?
'Bail out. Leave her like this with next to nothing. Worse than nothing. The house is gone, along with everything else.
'But your mother seems to think he was murd-
Kimi interrupted with an angry snort. 'She'd defend him no matter what, right or wrong. It's always been that way.
She paused long enough to blow her nose. Kimiko Kurobashi's bitterly hostile words didn't sound like those of someone grieving for a dead father, at least not yet. It was still too soon. She was still too angry with him for dying. It's a common enough reaction, and I didn't fault her for it.
The time had come to begin the inevitable questioning process. Big Al picked up the ball and ran with it, speaking directly to Kimiko for the first time. 'You said you talked to your father last night at his office?
